100 Themes - Rocky and Columbia
by Galieo Figaro
Summary: (European tour) A story in which Columbia needs to find closure, Rocky tries to be friends, and Eddie decides to play matchmaker.
1. Introduction

Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

This story is rated T (at least for now; I may change it to M later on down the road. Maybe.)

Hello, and welcome to a little something I started in the heat of my Rocky Horror rediscovery over the last few days. This isn't necessarily based around the movie. I took more inspiration for the visuals (such as the floorshow outfits mentioned below) from the European tour of the stage musical that started in 2008. Without exaggeration, this is one of my favorite iterations of Rocky Horror, along with the movie.

So what is this? Simply put, it's a 100-themes post-main-story fic covering the relationship between Rocky and Columbia. Why those two? Firstly, they both go through a lot because of Frank. Second, they both have a connection to Eddie, who serves as a thread between them here. Third, they don't interact that much during the show/movie, so I feel like there's a lot of potential there (same for why I focus on Rocky so much. He's a blank slate; so much can be done with him).

Just a heads-up for those of you not too familiar with the stage version: it's mostly covered in the movie, but there are a few differences. The main difference is that Rocky speaks and, while still innocent, is more aware of what's going on. There's a couple of others, namely an usherette (who's usually the actress playing Magenta) sings "Science Fiction, Double Feature" to open and close the show, and there's no dinner scene.

Also, I'm sorry if the POVs and switching-between-names-and-pronouns get confusing. Same goes for the many asides; that's how I write, but I'll work on it.

But you're here for the story, not to listen to me ramble on. Enjoy!

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I. Introduction

The ray had only knocked her out, but it stung like a bitch.

When she came to, she found herself in her room, still wearing her floor show outfit (most of it anyway; her boa and heels had carelessly been tossed on a nearby chair). Her head spun as she sat up and swung her feet to the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting until she stopped feeling like a ship knocked around on a stormy ocean. Once it had passed, she headed into her tiny bathroom, crowded with makeup, hair supplies, and more than a few pairs of ripped fishnets (for when she was just hanging around; she had to put on a fresh pair for last night).

For a moment, she stared at herself, decked out in her dress, dark red and black, not much more than a bra and poofy skirt. It was a shame it was only for floorshows – it actually wasn't a bad dress – but she didn't come in here to admire her outfit. Right there, dead center of her chest, was where the laser hit her, a red, semi-star-shaped sunburn (or rather, laser burn).

She knew it was coming, had rehearsed her part just like the others. Wasn't that how it always went? Of course, the first time, before Eddie, her outburst had gone a little differently, just general stuff about how Frank chewed people up and spat them out. (She also hadn't been drowning her grief in a bottle of Jack at the time.) It seemed melodramatic and ridiculous, but she enjoyed hamming it up before getting into floorshow mode. Performing always gave her such a rush.

When Eddie came along, her lines started to change. She wasn't entirely sure what led to it – probably around the time Frank first took Eddie into his room alone, slamming the door in her face when he saw her following. He never actually said anything to her, but his body language changed. He'd insist Eddie sit near him at dinner, have his arm around him, hide the motorcycle keys so Eddie would have to stay the night.

"Are we over?"

That's what she asked when she finally confronted him. He shrugged, that little smirk on his lips, and replied, "We could be, if you don't feel like sharing anymore." "I never wanted to share Eddie with you." "Then why keep bringing him around?"

She didn't have an answer. This first time Eddie came with a delivery, she was the one who insisted he stay. She was the one who kept calling Eddie over, whether it was just a delivery or help provide entertainment at a party.

But she remembered the brief look of shock on their faces the first time "You ditched me for Eddie!" came out of her mouth. Afterward, Frank, who hated deviations from the script, gushed about her performance, telling her to add more if she liked.

She talked to Eddie about it, but he assured her that he didn't care about Frank. He was only going along with it because Frank had promised something to help "better his position," something that would get him out of Denton, and he was going to take her with him no matter what. That was enough for her. She couldn't think of anything else she could add to her lines. She could only wait until she and Eddie were out of the castle for good, tearing up the road on his motorcycle.

At least, until Frank started getting ideas. He didn't want to just find a man anymore, he wanted to make one…

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He was expecting it. He'd been warned it would sting, and that it would leave a mark – his creator had explained the plan to him as they lay in bed after "the ultimate test" – but he barely felt a thing, which was why Riff Raff had to shoot as long as he did. Frank proudly grinned and said that was thanks to the muscles.

Now he wondered what he was going to do with himself. True, he had his exercises to keep up with, and Frank promised to teach him all about humans and other important things. What about after that? He was only about a day old, and even he knew they couldn't spend all their time together. What else was he supposed to do when his creator wasn't around? He certainly didn't want to be lonely, but he didn't know enough about the outside world to leave the castle (that and Frank wouldn't let him out of his sight).

Who could he talk to?

The servants? No, too scary.

Janet? Maybe, but he had no idea where she was.

Frank didn't care if he talked, but Rocky also didn't want to talk to him all the time. Who else was there?

_Columbia. _

Who?

_The redhead with the squeaky voice. Remember? "He's okay." _

Oh, right. Her. He remembered her. She didn't scare him like the servants did, but she didn't seem nice like Janet. Had they ever spoken before?

Wait. He danced with her after his creation, trying to escape his creator. She seemed just as excited as everyone else about him.

He then remembered calling Eddie "ugly," and she wasn't happy. He could apologize for that, right? He could make it up to her, somehow.

Where did that idea even come from, anyway?

_From the half of your brain that came out of the ugly guy in the freezer._

He didn't have long to linger on his thoughts, as Frank had slipped his fingers into one of the black leather straps crossing his chest and pulled him backward. "Come on," he whispered in a husky voice, sending goosebumps over Rocky's arms and legs, "I'm tired of these outfits. Aren't you?"

He could say "No," but he had a feeling that wouldn't end well. Instead, he let Frank lead him over to the bed and gently push him down.

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Thanks for reading. See you next chapter!

Seriously, go check out the European tour. There's no official cast recording, but there are a few versions of it on YouTube. The narration's in German, but the songs and the rest of the dialogue are in English. (Also, their version of Riff Raff is the best I've ever heard!)


	2. Seeking Solace

Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

This story is rated T (at least for now; I may change it to M later on down the road. Maybe.)

Welcome back, dear readers! Enjoy!

Warning: sometimes, the connections to the theme of the chapter will be kind of shaky (see Rocky's segment for proof of that).

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2\. Seeking Solace

Since Frank was done with the lab, at least for now, she claimed it for herself. With its smooth floors and wide space, it made the perfect dance studio. She could tap to her heart's content; the rooms downstairs were okay, but there were always furniture and people to avoid. Here, everything was back against the wall. She'd hesitated the first time – wouldn't you, after you saw your boyfriend brutally murdered in front of everyone in this very room?

Frank didn't really care if she used it – all the important chemicals were locked away and the machines were bolted down. She'd bring her little radio, tuned to the rock station, and let the music take her away. Although the songs weren't written with tap dancing in mind, she'd work herself into a frenzy, even coming up with silly little moves for the commercial jingles (when the station played a commercial that was all talk, she'd take a quick breather).

Here, she didn't have to talk to anyone. She usually preferred having someone around, but all she found herself wanting to talk about was Eddie. Who could she talk to about him? Frank would just brush her off; Riff Raff would just give her that creepy look; Magenta would listen but wouldn't really offer anything helpful; and Rocky… well, she really didn't want to think about him. For now, she was just fine with being alone. Who needed company when you had the echoes of your tap shoes drowning out your thoughts?

She'd dance laps around the lab, past the platform on which Rocky had emerged and Eddie had been slaughtered; past the freezer that held both those freaky popsicles (Frank claimed they helped his creative juices flow, but she didn't buy it) and Eddie's remains until that fateful day. At any other time, she couldn't stand being in the lab anymore, having to face all those painful memories. Thankfully, dancing helped, and she wouldn't stop until her legs felt ready to fall off.

Except when Buddy Holly played. Some stations played him more than others, and some DJs were smart enough to announce when they were playing his songs, which gave her enough warning to switch the station.

Today was not one of those days.

No matter how fired up she was, she'd always stop cold. Hearing that voice knocked the wind out of her sails, that grim reminder of the last time she and Eddie were together. Even when she was doing the one thing she loved most of all, she couldn't avoid her pain for long.

That was enough dancing for today.

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He'd taken to spending his free time – which he had plenty of – in the gym. He couldn't hide in here all day, he knew that. It certainly wasn't the lab, but it wasn't bad. He found when he wasn't exercising, he could just sit and think. He felt comfortable here, safe. That first night, he'd gone back to the lab to find safety; instead, he found Janet.

He could go back again whenever he wanted…except when Columbia was there. He quickly learned that when she had the lab, it was hers alone (shrieking "Get out!" and throwing her shoe at him helped it sink in).

He sat on a bench, catching his breath after a round of pushups. His workouts took his mind off how long the days felt. It had only been a few days since his creation, but he already had a routine worked out: wake up, do a few lifts, have breakfast, get back on the machines, cool down, try to avoid Frank and the servants when possible, figure out what to say to Columbia, eat, go to sleep. From there, he let his mind wander.

Despite what he'd seen that first night, his creator wasn't completely terrible. He was surprisingly gentle. At night, as they lie in bed, he would stroke Rocky's hair and whisper of all the things they were going to do. He'd patiently answer every question. Occasionally, during a workout, he'd watch Rocky in action, fawning over him. He'd loosened his grip and let Rocky roam the castle, since it was only the five of them (well, and the phantoms who always hung around).

The servants made themselves scarce, which was fine with him.

That left Columbia. He could hear the thumping and tapping of her shoes upstairs, and the music she danced to. He thought about what he would say. Mentioning Eddie probably wasn't the best idea.

_You think?_

One of the lab's vents led down into the gym, which made it easier to hear the music. It was nice to have something in the background. A new song had just started; he could make out something about loving someone named Peggy Sue.

His head snapped up. He'd heard that song before. Hadn't he? It shouldn't have mattered, since it stopped as soon as it started.

He stood and headed into the hall. As much as he didn't want to leave, he needed a shower.

In the few days he'd been alive, he'd heard plenty of songs on the radio, the jukebox, and from Frank's record collection. Then there were the songs he just knew – the floorshow numbers, his own song about feeling down, the Time Warp.

He didn't even see her coming. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that they knocked into each other. It didn't hurt; at least, he didn't feel anything. He gave himself a quick look over before turning to her.

Her head was down, her eyes squeezed shut as she sniffled. She was crying. Had he hurt her worse than he thought?

"I'm sorry."

She only stared back at him for a moment before brushing right past him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but what?

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What indeed, Rocky.

The song mentioned above is "Peggy Sue" by Buddy Holly and the Crickets. Because this website doesn't allow song lyrics, I have to stick with describing the song instead.

Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

I apologize now - I can't write endings, so some chapters will end kind of abruptly.


	3. Dreams

Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

This story is rated T (at least for now; I may change it to M later on down the road. Maybe.)

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3\. Dreams

In the last week, she'd started having dreams. They always ran the same way…

_*She's in a hall of mirrors, calling out and hearing her voice echo. She thinks it's just her at first, when a voice responds. A voice she never thought she'd hear again._

"_Collie?"_

_The voice comes from the end of the hall. She can't run fast enough, and yet she finally makes it. There he is, just as she remembers him. No blood, no crude surgical scars, the grease in his black hair catching the light (though where the light's coming from, she can't say). He holds his arms out to her and she rushes to him. They wrap their arms around each other. She nuzzles her face into his shoulder. The smells that clung to him – motorcycle grease, the oil in his leather jacket, his hair gel – fill her nose. Eddie is back, and everything is as it should be. _

_Then she looks into the mirror behind them. She sees her face, along with the back of his head. _

_Except his hair isn't black. It's blonde. _

_He's not wearing his jacket anymore. His bare muscled back and gold pants shimmer in the same, untraceable light. She can't see his face, and she doesn't want to. _

_What she wants is to break free, but she can't even move. In fact, they both seem frozen in this position. He doesn't grip her tighter. He just calls out "Collie" over and over. She can't stand hearing her nickname in that voice. Not Eddie's voice, rough from smoking, drinking, and singing rock n' roll as loud as he could. But the other voice, smooth and perfect. Does he even understand what he's saying?_

_Even though she can't move, her voice comes back to her. "Stop calling me that!" She begs. "You can't call me that! You're not Eddie!" _

_This doesn't bother him. He keeps calling like she hadn't said anything. _

_She wants to kick him, hit him, squirm out of his grasp and run away. She can only repeat herself, in the hopes her voice will break the mirrors. _

"_YOU'RE NOT EDDIE!"*_

She heard the shriek of his name ringing in her ears. She'd had nightmares before, but she never screamed herself awake.

She hated waking up alone. Sometimes Magenta would be there, the nights she wasn't staying in her brother's room. "Gennie" (which she learned to never call Magenta to her face) would turn on the lamp, sit in bed beside her, and assure her it was only a dream.

Tonight, however, she had the room to herself. She listened, waiting to hear the footsteps of the other residents of the castle as they stormed to her door and yelled at her to shut up. Luckily, she either wasn't as loud as she thought, or everyone else was too asleep to care.

She rolled over and hugged her pillow close, tears starting to spill. "Goodnight, Eddie."

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He was in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He usually had no problem falling asleep after "relieving Frank's tension", but tonight, he couldn't close his eyes without seeing faces. Not Frank's; his creator was snuggled up next to him, snoring quietly.

He saw Janet, calling him "creature of the night," wearing his leopard jacket after they'd been discovered.

_*She grabs his hands and guides them over her body. Her hair changes from brown to red, and her voice becomes higher.*_

He saw Eddie, singing about loving rock 'n' roll, being reduced to a pile of guts and leather.

_*He's in the center of the action – isn't Eddie supposed to be doing this? – dancing, picking her up and spinning her around. He also sees himself, held against the wall by Frank. If he's over there, why is he in Eddie's position?*_

He saw Columbia, her disinterest in him when they were first introduced, screaming as Eddie was killed right in front of her.

_*He knows he shouldn't say it. It's the last thing she needs to hear after what just happened. The words come out anyway: "Why do you keep him in there? He's so ugly."*_

Maybe, if he waited long enough, he'd just drift off…

"EDDIE!"

He bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding, jostling Frank off him. A name sat on the tip of his tongue; "Collie," a response to his name.

But it wasn't his name. He wasn't Eddie.

Next to him, Frank groaned in his sleep as he felt an empty space where his creation should have been. He sighed and lay back down.

He could figure this out in the morning. He just had to ask her. How hard could that be?

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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

You ever have one of those dreams where you're doing something and yet you can see yourself standing off to the side? Or is that just me?


	4. Dark

Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

The song "Hello, Mary Lou" belongs to Gene Pitney, Cayet Mangiaracina, and Imperial Records.

Yeah, Columbia's going to be miserable for the first ten chapters or so.

Also, I am a grad student and the semester is heating up (midterms and all that good stuff), so updates will be more sporadic from here on out. However, I will do my best to keep the gaps from getting too long.

One last thing - since this site doesn't all song lyrics, and this fic is going to involve songs from time to time, I'll have to describe the songs on here.

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IV. Dark

These were the kinds of days she hated: the ones where she knew something bad was going to happen, but she had no idea what. The clouds outside her window didn't help. They sat black and heavy, threatening rain and storms that probably weren't going to come.

She remembered her feelings a week-and-a-half ago. Despite her excitement for the events of that night, she'd felt uneasy too, as though something would send her good mood crashing down.

Storms? A feeling of dread? Sounded like a recipe for the worst days of her life.

After that dream last night, she was amazed she'd slept again at all. It was an uneasy sleep, but she didn't dream again, and she would take that over waking up feeling refreshed.

She caught sight of herself in her mirror on the way out. Her hair stuck out in all directions and she had raccoon eyes from the makeup she didn't get all the way off. She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair; why bother? She knew Riff Raff and Magenta wouldn't care. Frank probably wouldn't care, even though his hair and makeup were perfect in the mornings. (What was she saying? They were always perfect.)

If Eddie were here, that would be different, but… No, she wasn't getting on that path, not at this time of morning.

Going down the stairs, she noticed how quiet the castle was. No phantoms, servants, or creations lurked about. The lights in the hall were dim, enough that she could still see, but not more than the Transylvanians could handle. She wondered how someone could live on a world where it was night all the time. (Of course, the one time she said that out loud, Magenta just gave her a look and said she didn't understand how someone could live on a world with a sun.)

Maybe she timed this just right and she wouldn't have to share the kitchen with Frank and…him. She could just sit back, enjoy her breakfast, maybe gossip with Magenta over their coffee, think of how she could plan the rest of her day.

Music and the smell of coffee wafted into the hall as she approached the kitchen. At times like this, she was so glad the Transylvanians had taken to coffee, she didn't care she had to eat whatever passed for breakfast on their planet. She pushed the door open. From the corner of her eye, she saw Magenta and Riff Raff by the stove, eating together. She gave them a quick smile before turning her attention to the table.

Dammit, her timing was off again. Two blond heads occupied seats at the table, bent over that morning's newspaper – Frank sat at the head (naturally) and Rocky sat to his right.

All right, plan B: get coffee, eat and get out as quickly as possible.

Breakfast was a very informal affair in this house. A buffet of…whatever, along with a stack of plates, mugs, and a pot of coffee sat on the counter. In the center of the buffet sat a radio, on which the DJ cheerfully rambled on about weather, local news, and whatever song was coming on next. At least someone was in a good mood.

Frank looked up from the paper. "Good morning, Columbia."

"Morning." She muttered, waving her hand in Frank's general direction as she headed directly for the coffee pot.

"Good morning."

She didn't respond to that other voice as she filled her mug and picked up a plate. She heard enough of it in her dreams.

She could let all this out during her dance session later. For now, she concentrated on filling her plate, not noticing how the food looked this morning; after living with aliens long enough, you learned to stop questioning things. Besides, it was all edible, at least.

She also didn't notice that she forgot to add milk to her coffee until she took a sip. She always added plenty of sugar – enough to almost change it to the consistency of syrup – but she hated the bitterness of black coffee.

Right now, though, she reflected as she sat down, her coffee matched her mood.

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She wasn't looking at him. Instead, she either stared into her mug or at her plate, as if they held the answers to her problems.

_Yeah, like bringing me back to life and replacing the other half of my brain. _

Saying "good morning" wasn't working. Talking to her at all didn't seem to work. What could he say to her? "Last night, I heard you scream Eddie's name and almost yelled something back." Regardless of how she responded to that, Frank wouldn't take it well.

Well, like Frank, she seemed to talk a lot. Maybe he could try listening and find the right thing to say from there. He bent his head back down to the paper – Frank had insisted that if the two of them were going to be on this planet for a while, they'd better have some idea of what was going on – and kept his ears tuned to any conversation.

Frank, not one to let things be quiet for too long, cleared his throat. "I heard you tapping away in the lab again. How's that working for you?"

"Pretty good." She looked up from her mug to meet Frank's eyes, doing her best to avoid looking at him. "Are you going to need it again soon?"

Frank thought for a moment. "I shouldn't think so." He took a sip of coffee, looking over her head out the kitchen window. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

As they were coming downstairs earlier, Frank looked out the window and laughed to himself, "Just like home." He wondered what could be so lovely or homelike about it, but he assumed it was just something he hadn't learned yet.

He'd learned all about Frank's homeworld of Transexual, how it was night all the time and had two moons – one brighter than the other - instead of a sun. He didn't understand how that could work, but Frank had promised to show him.

The sound of Frank snapping his fingers pulled him out of his thoughts. "Turn it up, Magenta," His creator said. "I love this morning show."

He heard the radio grow louder, the DJ eagerly announcing the next song: "Let's take you back a ways, Denton! Before the Beatles, before the Stones, there was Ricky Nelson, and here he is with his classic hit, 'Hello, Mary Lou!'"

_Now this is a good one. You mind? _

Mind what? He quickly found out what, as he heard himself start to sing along about a girl named Mary Lou, and the guy losing his heart because he loved her.

Frank didn't look up; breaking into song was not that unusual in this house.

_She loves this one._

She did? He shot her a quick look. She wasn't acting like it; her eyes were still down at her plate.

Still, it was a pretty catchy song.

_It's early. Give her time. _

He was enjoying this song, how the singer fell in love with Mary Lou when he saw her green eyes...

She snapped her head up, staring right at him. "How did you know that?"

His heart started to beat just a little faster. She actually spoke to him; now, to keep the conversation going. "Know what?"

"To sing 'green eyes' instead of 'brown eyes.'"

_Oops._

Before he could say anything else, she bolted from her seat, her coffee and plate of food forgotten.

_Damn, I forgot that's how I would sing it to her. The last thing she needs right now is to hear it from you._

He should have noticed the look on her face sooner. She looked hurt, like he was singing that song just to mock her.

He started to get up, but he felt Frank's hand on top of his. "Don't worry about her. She'll get over it."

He sighed, sitting back down. He was worried about her. She had to get over a lot lately, didn't she?

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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

The descriptions of the breakfast as just "whatever" comes from the fact that I cannot write food. I better get over that, since I have a food-themed chapter coming up (not the next one, but the one after).


	5. Gray

Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

Before I get started, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's read what I have up so far. I hope you're enjoying it :)

Look at that; I promised I wouldn't let the gap between chapters get too long and here I am, almost two months later. Luckily, I have finals prep under control, so hopefully I can put more time aside for chapter six and get it up quicker than this.

This one's going to be long and kind of shaky; just warning you now. Enjoy!

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5\. Gray

The color had just gone out of the house. True, the décor was dark already – Frank took his whole old Hollywood-gothic-glam rock aesthetic very seriously – and it had been cloudy for the last week, but there was more. When she woke up, that underlying energy that pushed her grief aside was gone. She did not want to get up. She did not want to get through her day. She did not want to act like everything was normal.

She did not feel like dancing today. She felt suffocated.

Something got her out of bed anyway. Rule or no rule, she had to get out, at least for today, and she knew where she had to go.

It had been a few days since the Mary Lou incident, and she refused to set foot in the same room as him. (Not that anyone was making her; Frank sure didn't care if she did.) However, it did mean she started skipping going to meals. Why waste energy trying to avoid looking at him across the table when she could fix up something later and eat in the privacy of the kitchen? (She was no cook, but she wasn't completely hopeless in her culinary skills; she at least knew how to use a microwave.)

She tugged on jeans, a top, and a pair of boots, pulling her curly hair into a ponytail; no makeup, nothing flashy, just comfortable. Ordinarily, she hated looking this plain – she wasn't even wearing fishnets – but where she was going, it didn't feel right to dress as she usually did. (That and the temperature had dropped again as November became December.)

There was just one thing left.

She pulled her leather jacket out of the closet, from its place next to her leather blouse, the one she hadn't worn since that night. The blouse was from Frank, the jacket was from Eddie.

It was almost funny, when she thought about it: very similar gifts, given to her in very different ways. She'd received the blouse shortly after she moved in. She walked into her room one day to find a glittery silver box on her bed, with a tag that said "Love, Frank." At the time, that had meant everything to her. Here was a man who gave her plenty of what she needed – a comfortable place to sleep, a kitchen full of food (even if she didn't know it was all from another planet at first), and no rent to pay.

She knew hitching that ride in his pickup truck back to the band's campsite would work out. That's how she got them the gig at Frank's party.

Frank fascinated her. The first time she saw him, strutting around the party, commanding the room, his confidence drew her in. She'd seen a few singers like this on her travels, wearing heavy makeup and swaggering on tiny stages in women's clothes. With them, it felt forced, just an act put on to get a rise out of the audience. With Frank, she knew that this was him, the real deal. When he locked eyes with her, she knew instantly this was where she wanted to be, by his side. Instead of leaving with the band when the party ended, she stayed behind.

That first night, he taught her how to give herself over to absolute pleasure. He wasn't her first time, but he was unlike the others. He actually seemed interested in her, or rather, how much he could make her enjoy herself. He was better, so much better than any of the guys she'd been with before. He brought color to her life (literally, if the white streak that appeared in her hair the next morning was anything to go by). When she learned the truth, she honestly wasn't surprised to learn he came from outer space. She was too in love to care, and she swore to wear the blouse as often as she could.

The sound of heavy breathing brought her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find herself outside the gym. When did she get here? She didn't even remember leaving her room. The door was open somewhat and she heard him, hard at work maintaining that body. This just motivated her to walk faster; she wasn't going to stick around, and risk being seen by him.

She made sure to pay attention to where she was going this time, and she soon found her way to Frank's room. The door was open all the way, and she could see Frank sitting at his vanity with his head down, sorting through his nail polishes. She knocked on the doorframe. Frank looked up and did a double take. "I almost didn't recognize you." He laughed.

She responded with a half-smile, more out of obligation than actual amusement. "If you need the lab today, you can have it." She said. "I'm going for a walk."

Frank raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this change in her routine. "Anywhere in particular?"

She shrugged. "Just around, get some air." _Not a lie_, she reasoned to herself.

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the jacket. "I haven't seen that jacket in a while. Is it a special occasion?"

She instinctively pulled the jacket – this little piece she had left of Eddie – close. "Can't I wear what I feel like in this house?" She tried to sound jokey, and not at all miserable.

Frank looked her up and down once more, then he shrugged.

(He did that to her a lot lately; maybe that's why he was so caught off-guard that night when she stormed up to him, backing him against the wall. He told her afterward that her speech that night may have been her best one yet.)

"Have a good time, wherever you go." He said, turning back to his nail polish. "Don't get lost on the way." Any other day, she would have had a response, but today she just turned and left. The sooner she got out of the house, the better.

As she made her way down the stairs and to the kitchen door, she drifted back into her thoughts again, specifically how she came to have this jacket. After she and Eddie had been seeing each other for… How long had it been? A few months, probably; she wasn't the best at keeping track of time. She just remembered that Frank had been in a particularly good mood that day and didn't bat an eye when she said she was going for a ride with Eddie.

Eddie fascinated her too, but not in the way Frank did. They were alike in a lot of ways; they both didn't care what others thought and lived life on their terms. However, Eddie was different from anyone she'd ever known. He was a little rough around the edges, but he was real in a way Frank wasn't. He didn't want to be in control. He wanted to be there for you. When he gave you a gift, he wanted it to mean something, to show it came from the heart. That was the case with her leather jacket. They'd ridden his motorcycle to a hill overlooking Denton and sat in the grass, watching the stars and singing along to the radio. Eventually, he pulled something wrapped in newspaper out from under his seat and handed it to her. The smile on his face spoke volumes as she ripped the paper away and tried the jacket on. It fit her perfectly and the leather was nice and soft. Afterward, he took her hands and made her a promise: he would never leave, things would only get better from here, and one day, he would give her the life she deserved.

It wasn't just the gift. Eddie did something no man had done for her before: he stayed. He wouldn't be gone the next morning, even when he had his deliveries to make. When she woke up, he'd either still be sleeping, or he'd be lying beside her, trying to keep He gave her something to look forward to each day; even when he didn't visit, he'd call, just to check on her or to sometimes serenade her with his best Buddy Holly or Elvis. He brought color to her life after Frank had started to drain it away.

She saw the changes – Eddie coming out of Frank's room more often, his occasional changes in behavior his verse during the opening of the floor show– but now she really regretted not paying closer attention or doing anything sooner. Despite his promises of getting them out of there, he was leaving less and less. He started spending days, and then weeks, at the castle. When he disappeared altogether, she didn't buy Frank's story of Eddie slipping out in the middle of the night. He wouldn't do that. He promised.

She found herself at the kitchen door. The room was empty, the remnants of breakfast cleared away. Her stomach growled a little, but she ignored it. If she didn't leave now, she never would.

What had led her to this point? Love? Loss? Loneliness? Why did she stick around, continuing to pelvic thrust and tap dance and strut her stuff during the floor show, when there wasn't even a reason to stay anymore?

Did the reason really matter? She would do whatever she could to keep her rose-tinted glasses firmly in place (like gushing to Brad and Janet about how lucky they were to be invited "up to the lab") but from time to time – just like today – they would come off, and she'd see her world for what it really was: empty, colorless, loveless.

She sighed and opened the door, stepping out into the cold December morning.

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From one of the round windows in the gym, he saw her making her way through the yard. He didn't notice her at first – just something black moving against the already-colorless stone and grass – but for an instant, her red hair stood out. He'd never seen her leave the castle. What was she doing out there? Why wasn't she in the lab, blasting music and dancing? Where was she going?

How could he find out? Maybe he could ask someone.

Not Eddie. Eddie wasn't saying anything, not since that day in the kitchen

Frank assured him what happened was an honest accident, some leftover traces of Eddie that were brought out by that song, and that they would just go away.

He wasn't so sure he wanted that.

Frank had also promised that, when the sun was out, the colors of this planet came to life. Now that, he wanted to see.

They'd started going for walks in the last few days. They never went too far, just around the castle property. It was an odd sensation at first, being outside with no walls around (and he didn't even think Frank would want him outside, even if they were together).

Now that he thought about it, asking Frank didn't seem like a good idea. At the very best, he would just brush her off again, but if he were in one of his moods…

He shook his head. He couldn't stand here thinking about that.

He'd have to find out for himself. That meant he'd have to try something new: go outside himself and see where she went.

He stuck his head out into the hall, just in time to see Frank heading up to the lab. He didn't even notice Rocky; that was a good sign. As he heard the door to the lab close, he stepped into the hall, closing the gym door quietly behind him.

She must have gone out the kitchen door; that was the only exit from that side of the house. He tiptoed down the stairs, doing his best to avoid the ones that groaned, and made his way through the twisting corridor to the empty kitchen. Looking out the door, he could make her out against the gray and brown of the woods. His hand went for the knob.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder. Turning, he saw a couple of phantoms behind him, holding out his leopard jacket and a scarf. He didn't even hear them come into the kitchen (he tried asking Frank about them before, but his creator didn't really have an answer; the best he could do was the phantoms were just "there"). Regardless, he smiled; they weren't so bad, even when they just showed up out of nowhere.

"Thanks." He said, slipping the jacket on while the phantom with the scarf wound it around his neck. He looked over his shoulder; Columbia was still in sight but getting smaller as she went deeper into the woods. He turned back to the phantoms. "Wish me luck." The two gave him encouraging smiles and thumbs up as he headed out into the cold.

He hadn't gone very far from the house before he realized how much he stood out. What if she turned around? Even if he hid among the trees, his jacket and pants could easily give him away.

What would Eddie do? He had half the delivery boy's brain; maybe he could learn to think like Eddie.

She was almost out of sight. He'd have to hurry; he could keep up with her and try to think like Eddie at the same time.

The path was mostly clear, save for occasional twigs and clumps of leaves. Frank had told him about this path on one of their walks. It had been there when he and the servants arrived on Earth and it led to a church on the edge of town.

Fortunately, it didn't have twists and turns. Aside from a couple of hills and a left turn, the path was mostly a straight line and he could make her out in front of him. He didn't have much of a plan other than to see where she was going, but

Of course, stepping on a twig and diving behind a boulder before she saw him wasn't part of the plan either. He didn't have a good view of her from there, but instead of stepping out too early, he'd let her get ahead of him. When he poked his head up over the rock, she was a spot in the distance again, but she was slowing down.

He resumed his place behind her on the path, making sure to watch where he stepped this time. The church building started growing as he made his way closer, but she wasn't moving. She had turned off the path, her hand on something, frozen.

He stopped as well and started checking his surroundings. This was the furthest he'd ever been from the castle, far away enough that he couldn't see it over his shoulder. On one side of him was the trees, most of which didn't have any leaves, and on the other was a long, metal fence. Behind this fence were stone squares sticking out of the ground. Frank had shown him pictures like this; he'd said this place was called a cemetery, where Earth people buried their dead.

Did she have someone buried here? She must have, as she finally pushed the gate open with a loud creak and went through. But who would be buried here? Surely not Eddie, since what was left of him had gone down the waste disposal.

He resumed walking again until he came to the gate. Instead of going through, he felt something stopping him.

He wasn't sure how he felt about this place. He was getting a bad feeling, like he shouldn't be here, but she had to have come this way for a reason. If he stayed long enough, maybe he could find out why (but if she went any further, he'd just go back to the house. No point in going too far and getting even more lost).

He only had his own judgment to trust in this case. He wouldn't follow her inside and get too close. He crouched down, watching her through the bars of the fence.

Her back still to him, she stopped in front of one of the gray slabs and knelt. There was something carved into the front of the slab, but she was kneeling in front of whatever it said.

Despite the cold, the air was still, and he could hear her clearly.

"Hi, Mom."

Mom?

"I know it's been a while. If you haven't seen what's been going on, I'll give you a quick rundown."

He didn't know how long this rundown was supposed to be, but it didn't feel quick. She started rattling off a whole bunch of events, most of which he didn't recognize (probably from before he was born).

He did notice two things. The first was the number of times she said Eddie's name; the second was who she didn't mention Eddie's death at all. She went right from his creation to seeing him with Janet and the floorshow. She got quiet after that. This gave him a chance to take all this in. He never heard her – or anyone else in the castle – mention she had a mother (although he'd learned that most living things on this planet had a mother).

He had no idea what having a mother was like, even if half his brain came from someone who did. As far as he knew, all he really had was Frank (who would sometimes go on about his own mother, the queen of his planet, and how she would absolutely love Rocky). He couldn't imagine losing Frank for real (as opposed to what they did to scare Janet away). Now he knew she seemed to have a pretty good idea of how losing someone felt.

He turned and crept away. Hopefully, he could get back into the gym before Frank noticed he was gone (if he even did; despite coming in to watch him occasionally, Frank usually stayed out of the gym), but he had some serious thinking to do.

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Thanks for reading. See you next chapter!

Goodness, this one was a rambler, wasn't it? I've noticed from writing this chapter that when I struggle with a theme, I ramble in the hopes of coming up with something. Instead of just doing the logical thing and picking another theme for this chapter, I decided to be stubborn and power through.

If you celebrate Thanksgiving today, have a happy, safe holiday, enjoy whatever you have for dinner, and make sure to eat until you're comatose!


	6. Food

Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

This story is rated T (at least for now; I may change it to M later on down the road. Maybe.)

If you celebrate anything around this time of year – Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza, Winter Solstice, and any other holidays that I'm missing – may you have the best holidays ever, and a Happy New Year! See you in 2020!

Just a couple of author's notes:

1) Sometimes, multiple chapters will cover the events of one day, while others have days, or even weeks in the time between the events.

2) Also, starting with the last chapter, I am working on including the phantoms and giving them things to do. They don't speak in the show – outside of singing – and I won't write them speaking here, unless I can figure out how to make it work within the context of a scene. However, I will have them do things on their own, instead of being directed by one of the main characters. (What can I say? I like the phantoms for the same reason I like Rocky. They're blank slates.)

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6\. Food

Try as she could, she knew she couldn't avoid him forever.

Getting out of the house helped with her mood, if only for a little while. It didn't put her rose-tinted glasses back in place, but it did clear her head.

For now, she was aware of a few things: She'd have to move on from Eddie eventually (though she would put that off for as long as possible), she couldn't avoid Rocky all the time, and she'd have to find the strength that got her through the tough times before. She knew it was there; maybe getting back into the old routine would help.

She'd go to dinner that night; she'd talk to Frank if he talked to her (although talking to Rocky was still not an option); and tomorrow, she'd dance her ass off in the lab.

On the walk home from the cemetery, her stomach growled. Time to see what leftovers Magenta had set aside from breakfast. She'd have to go without coffee for today.

At least, that's what she thought. Coming through the kitchen door, the smell of fresh coffee hit her. Magenta sat at the counter, a mug in her hands and a second mug at the seat next to her, along with a plate of food: eggs, toast, and some kind of meat (she didn't know what exactly, but Magenta said they were akin to sausages). Columbia couldn't help but smirk as she took her jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair. "How did you know?"

The maid shrugged. "I just had a feeling you could use this." A giggle in the corner made the two turn their heads; a couple of phantoms huddled together, their hands over their mouths to contain their laughter. "All right, maybe I had a hint," Magenta admitted, giving them a knowing look.

Columbia felt a small smile tug her lips up as she sat down. "Well, thanks."

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of chewing and silverware clattering (she was hungrier than she thought). Eventually, she noticed Magenta watching her intently; it was nothing new, but Columbia couldn't remember the last time she had done it. "What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you dressed like that."

A comment like that from Frank made her uncomfortable; from Magenta, it was just a casual conversation starter (for the Transylvanian, anyway). "I doubt they dress like this on your planet, right?"

Magenta shook her head. "It's not that. You look almost...normal. For this planet, anyway."

She paused, a forkful of eggs (at least, Magenta and Frank both said these were eggs on their planet) in the air. How do you respond to that? Was it even a good thing? "Thanks?"

Magenta waved her hand dismissively, sipping her coffee. "Never mind. How's your breakfast?"

"Good. Thanks for setting this up."

"I'm just tired of you eating alone."

"That's what makes you a good friend." Magenta squirmed a little at the term…

From that point on, they talked about other things, ranging from clichés like the weather to whatever news was happening in the galaxy of Transylvania to which songs were best for tapdancing to what they thought Brad and Janet (and other past visitors) were getting up to now. She wasn't in the mood to talk about why she went out or where she went, and Magenta didn't ask. Things like that proved the "I see all" line in "Time Warp" to be true. She just knew when to get into a topic and when to hold back.

The topic eventually moved to the dinner menu for that night. It was nothing fancy – a roasted chicken and some sides – but it brought up another question. "Frank will be there tonight, right?" _And Rocky along with him?_

Magenta raised an eyebrow. It said, _"What do you think?", _but Columbia didn't feel embarrassed asking such an obvious question. Now that she was on that topic, it was all she could think about. Despite her little speech when they had company, Frank still held a place in her heart, cheating and all. When he came back to her (between his times with Eddie), she treasured every moment they spent together.

Even if she refused to admit that the good feelings Frank aroused in her were starting to feel rather hollow…

"Well, can you?"

Now she felt embarrassed; she didn't have the best attention span, but she noticed she'd been zoning out a lot more recently. "Sorry," she shook her head, "what'd you say?"

Magenta gave one of her mysterious smiles that could have meant several things. "Sharing a table with Rocky again. Think you can handle it?"

She thought back to that day in the hall, when he'd apologized after bumping into her. He saw how she looked, barely holding it together. Did he think that one little apology would be enough? Was she overthinking it, maybe? He had no idea of how he came to be (he obviously wasn't the brightest and Frank would certainly never tell him everything; hell, she was amazed he was answering all those questions to begin with). He didn't understand how she felt – the pain, the betrayal, the reminder of how she lost everyone she loved in the worst possible ways.

Wait, was she actually giving him the benefit of the doubt? He wouldn't understand. He never would. Frank kept him firmly where he wanted him, and that meant not giving a shit for anyone else.

Oh well, no point in dwelling on it. She couldn't let a thing like that get to her and keep her down. She'd bounce back; it's what she did. She always got up again when she fell during "Time Warp." Why should this be any different?

She drained the last of her coffee. "Yeah, I think I can."

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Frank never noticed he left. Rocky couldn't believe it, nor could he believe that Eddie was talking again.

_What were you thinking, following her? Who does that?_

Okay, so maybe he wasn't saying anything good, but he was back. That, along with what he learned about Columbia, gave him more to think about.

If only he had more time to think about it today. (Sure, there was always tomorrow, but it was fresh in his mind now.)

He'd been in the gym for a couple of hours, when Frank appeared in the doorway, in his sparkling green scrubs, and brought him up to the lab. There was a table in the middle of the room, with various plates and glasses on it, no doubt set up by Riff Raff, who lurked in the corner, wearing a lab coat and glaring at him. Phantoms were spread around, all wearing aprons, masks, and gloves. (He recognized the two who had helped him downstairs and smiled at them; under their masks, he could tell they were smiling back.)

Frank launched into some speech about health, physique, and sugar, but he wasn't listening. His attention drifted to the table. Each glass was half-full, and each plate had one piece of food on it. He recognized a couple of fruits, and one glass had orange juice in it. Most of the foods, however, were either brightly colored or varying shades of brown, which could also be said of the drinks, although some were fizzing with tiny bubbles.

His gaze fell on one glass, and a plate with a flat, brown rectangle on it. _Does that glass have Jack in it? What I wouldn't give to take a slug of Jack again. And is that a Hershey bar?_ He felt his mouth start to water a little just looking at these things.

Frank nudged him – a little harder than he meant to, hopefully; Frank never wanted to hurt him physically (he only did that to Riff Raff) – and motioned for him to pick something from the table. He said something about how these tests were to ensure that he could "avoid temptation."

Well, whatever that meant, it worked. He wasn't sure if that was part of his design, or if Frank even had anything to do with it. He just knew he had to take a sip of each drink, and a bite of each food, and to swallow everything. Each sip made his head spin; as for the foods, one bite was enough to make his stomach twist painfully.

After every swallow, he saw Frank point to someone and yell "He's trying the candy!" or "Onto the soda!"

_What's he trying to do to you?_

He had no idea. (Was this really a test, or was it some sort of punishment for Janet?) He just knew for sure that he didn't like these things he was being forced to eat and drink, and that he wouldn't go looking for these things in the future. (He didn't feel as bad after the fruit and the orange juice, but he didn't feel any better either.)

Frank rubbed his back after, handing him one of those popsicles to get the taste out of his mouth (these were the only sugary things, he could handle, if they even had sugar in them). "Sorry, baby," – and he actually did look sorry – "I just had to make sure of something, but it's all over now. You passed with flying colors."

That was good to hear, kind of. "Am I going to have to do that again?"

The guilty look on Frank's face told him enough. Eventually, his creator put on a smile that seemed too happy. "Don't worry about it."

At least now, he was eating something that didn't make him feel like crud. The chicken dinner was delicious, already helping him forget how all that sugar tasted (Frank had called him a regular carnivore after one of their first dinners together).

He didn't want to look at her. He knew he shouldn't (she wouldn't like it, and neither would Frank), but there she was, seated across from him at the table for the first time in a week. She kept her attention on her food – and Frank when he said something, regardless if he was actually talking to her – and she was quiet. How was she holding up after earlier today? He could hope for the best and try asking her.

_Wasn't spying on her today enough? _

Okay, maybe not.

Dinner was over before he knew it. Frank went on and on about the tests today, and whatever he had been doing while Columbia was out. (Once again, he couldn't believe his luck that no one noticed that he had gone out too.) He'd quickly learned to just tune out Frank's voice and listen for when he pushed his chair back, like he was doing right now.

"Who's up for a little Steve Reeves _Hercules_ tonight?" He asked, holding his hand out expectantly. Rocky took the hand as he stood himself. His creator then faced the only person still sitting. "You coming, Columbia?"

This made his head turn. As far as he could recall, this was the first time since his creation that Frank had asked her to join them for… well, anything.

Maybe now wasn't the best time to ask, though. She didn't look as upset as before, but she looked more like she wanted to be by herself. "Not right now, Frank."

He cringed inwardly; even he knew that wasn't what Frank wanted to hear. True enough, his creator pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. "You won't sit here all night, will you?"

"No, I…" She trailed off, trying to avoid looking at Frank's face. The room was quiet, except for Riff Raff and Magenta wheeling in a cart to collect the dishes. Finally, she cleared her throat and looked at him again. "I'll be there in a little while. I've just got something on my mind."

Whatever mood Frank was in must have passed, as he shrugged as if nothing had happened. "Well, just don't be too long." His creator then turned back to him, smiling eagerly. "You're going to love this! It's one of my favorites!"

As Frank led him away, he quickly glanced behind him. She was still at the table, her head in her hands.

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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!

Originally, my idea for this chapter was going to be a spin on the dinner scene from the movie, but it didn't really work out. I still have the idea, though. I'll save it for another chapter (or maybe even another story).

Probably should have asked this sooner, but…how am I doing?


	7. No Way Out

Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.

This story is rated T (at least for now; I may change it to M later on down the road. Maybe.)

Nobody panic! I'm alive!

Sorry, that was the first thing that came to mind. Anyway, I hope you are all hanging in there during this time. Be careful, take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.

I'm also sorry about taking so long with this one. To make a long story short, I kept putting this one off for two reasons: a required Python coding course that was more stressful than it needed to be, and ramping up the job search so I'll hopefully have something when I graduate in July.

One last thing: This story got its first review! Thanks to CalvinHobbesGatsby, and I'm sorry for not responding to you sooner.

Columbia's portion of this chapter brought to you by "Somebody Super Like You" and "Life at Last" from _Phantom of the Paradise. _Now, on with the show!

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7\. No Way Out

As was usually the case with dreams, everything was slightly off from how it was in the real world, and she didn't care.

The good news was that this dream wasn't the same one with the mirrors.

The bad news was it was something much worse: that day all over again….

_The freezer door is open. Everyone's bustling about, going back and forth, conducted by Frank. He's shouting orders and pointing; Riff Raff and Magenta are at the machines, twisting the dials and ignoring the whirring sound that kept getting louder. She leads the phantoms in and out of the freeze; they're all carrying things_

_Brad and Janet…well, she didn't know what they were doing, but she knew they were there somewhere._

_An agonized scream rings out. It doesn't register with her; neither does the severed arm she's carrying out of the freezer's mist. The next thing she knows, she's in her same position as before, between Riff Raff and Magenta, with a good view of the main event... _

_There he is! He's alive! They're both alive! Never mind that they both just appeared_

_It's not "Hot Patootie." She doesn't know what it is_. _It's not exactly something she can dance to, but she finds herself moving as best she can. She's not really paying attention to everyone else, but she assumes they can say the same thing._

_Eddie doesn't put her over his shoulder and carry her to the platform. He lets go of her hand, drifting away until he's dead-center in the lab, almost like he's giving himself up to Frank. She tries to open her mouth, string together the words that would save his life. But her mouth doesn't cooperate; it stays in that beaming smile. _

_The song trailed off into a blood-chilling scream. She hears every ounce of pain in that scream. She's the cause of that pain; who else? If it hadn't been for her, he wouldn't have stuck around. He wouldn't have lost half his brain to a living sex toy. He wouldn't be killed in the most brutal way. _

_She doesn't have to see him be killed again. She doesn't want to. Yet, here she is. The first stab has him clutching his chest as if that could stop the knife in his back. The second stab brings him to his knees. He locks eyes with hers. What were they saying? "Help me!" "It's your fault!" _

_With the third stab, he reaches for her. The scene slows down; she feels her legs moving through molasses, trying to get to him and hold him in her arms again before his life - what little of it is left - drains away. _

_Frank raises the knife again. She doesn't see anything else. There's another scream, except this one is hers..._

She shot up in bed, drenched in sweat. A hand covered hers and she jumped.

"It's only me." The lamp beside her bed switched on. Magenta was sitting on the edge of her bed. How long had she been there? This wasn't her night to share the room; she wasn't here when Columbia went to bed.

Regardless, the look in Magenta's eyes told her why she was here. "Eddie again?"

The tears spilled over as she hugged the maid close to her. Despite this, her voice was calm as she recounted what she could remember of the dream. "Is this my life now?"

Magenta, normally uncomfortable with any displays of affection from her little friend, didn't try to say anything. She never knew what to say during these times. She just let Columbia hold her close.

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For once, Frank wasn't clinging to him in his sleep. That was a relief; he didn't think he'd be able to get his thoughts straight otherwise.

It had been a long day. Not necessarily because he had nothing to do; he stuck to his usual routine of working out and trying to avoid everybody. Frank, however, decided this would be one of those days where he refused to leave Rocky's side.

Wherever he went, his creator was right beside him. At meals, he'd make sure their chairs were so close they were touching. In the gym, he'd "ooh" and "ahh" over every little move. It snowed a little in the afternoon, so Frank took him outside and showed him how to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

There was the usual movie after dinner – another _Hercules, _although this time with Mickey Hargitay, who wasn't bad, but not as good as Steve Reeves. In bed, he did his usual thing of helping Frank with his "tension." Although his creator clearly enjoyed it, he himself couldn't keep his mind on it. Something was nagging in the back of his mind.

Now, with Frank asleep and the house quiet, that something came forward. One of his first memories: Eddie bursting out of the freezer, and what came after.

Surprisingly, that memory didn't come up too often, or at least, not in its entirety.

He just stood there.

He reminded himself he wasn't even an hour old at that point. How was he supposed to know?

Everyone looked like they were having so much fun dancing, and he wanted to join them. When he saw Frank coming over, he thought they would dance together. Getting dragged to the side and the popsicle shoved in his face to distract him.

The screams. The blood. The look of despair on her face.

He kept repeating what he knew to be true (or at least, what Frank had told him that first night): it wasn't his fault. He had nothing to do with what happened. He didn't kill Eddie.

So why did he keep feeling guilty? No one blamed him.

Well, he had a pretty good feeling she did. Unless that came from Eddie's half of the brain.

_That wasn't me, kid. That was all you._

Frank's arms wrapping around his torso put an end to this line of thinking.

It was hopeless. Even on a good day, when he could go hours without seeing or talking to anyone, his creator was always there. When he could be alone, he was still stuck with his thoughts. And he hated it.

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Thanks for reading. See you next chapter! Stay safe.

I have a couple more chapters of silent introspection and the occasional conversation, but things will start to pick up for real; I promise.


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